


a million little times

by SeeTheVision



Series: folklore [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Forbidden Love, Heartbreak, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeTheVision/pseuds/SeeTheVision
Summary: Jaemin reaches forward and takes Renjun’s hand. The prince’s elegant fingers and perfectly trimmed nails look too delicate against Renjun’s ragged cuticles and knuckles split from scrubbing the floor with lye, but somehow their fingers interlock perfectly.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Series: folklore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872076
Comments: 24
Kudos: 158





	a million little times

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by illicit affairs by taylor swift

_And that's the thing about illicit affairs_

_And clandestine meetings and longing stares_

_It's born from just one single glance_

_But it dies and it dies and it dies_

_A million little times_

A scrap of parchment sits neatly folded on Renjun’s narrow cot when he enters his bedchamber. _The garden. Sunset,_ it reads in elegant script. Renjun stuffs it into his pocket with a sigh. He should ignore it. He should light his lantern and spend the evening here, in his tiny room in the servants’ quarters. He should watch the sunset fade from his window.

He goes to the garden.

Jaemin waits among the roses, glowing in the golden light of the setting sun. Renjun takes a deep breath of the sweetly perfumed air before stepping into view. The smile that splits the prince’s face makes Renjun want to scream his frustration to the darkening sky. Instead, he lets himself be drawn into Jaemin’s arms.

“I missed you,” the prince says, taking a quick glance around the garden to ensure their privacy before stealing a kiss from Renjun’s lips.

“You saw me this morning at breakfast,” grumbles Renjun, trying and failing to resist the need to wrap his arms around Jaemin’s shoulders.

“You know what I mean.”

He does. He knows all too well.

  
  


***

  
  


Renjun is fifteen when he becomes a servant at the palace. It’s a great honor, his mother tells him, to serve the royal family of the Southern Kingdom. Renjun doesn’t care much about honor, but his family needs the money. 

Life at the palace could certainly be worse. For the first time in his life, he has a bedchamber to himself. He has three hot meals every day. He sends home twelve silver coins every fortnight. 

As the newest member of the staff, Renjun gets stuck with all the worst tasks—cleaning the delicate porcelain dishes and the heavy pewter stewpots, scrubbing the marble tiles of the entryway, helping out in the stables— but as years pass and he grows older, he’s assigned more often to wait on the royals and aristocracy. With a fine new uniform and a bottle of wine in his hand, he’s little more than a decoration to the dining hall, but the people are interesting to watch.

The young prince draws his eye most often. Prince Jaemin sometimes catches him looking and flashes a smile that makes Renjun’s insides flip upside down.

  
  


***

  
  


Sometimes Renjun returns to his room after a day of waiting on bratty aristocrats to find a gift on his pillow. Roses, delicate chocolates shaped like doves or flowers, small pieces of jewelry. Renjun hates them, hates the way the decadence stands out among his drab clothes and few belongings. They're a reminder that he doesn't belong in Jaemin's world.

That doesn't stop him from cradling each silk-wrapped package to his aching chest.

  
  


***

  
  


The first time the prince speaks to him is a crisp spring morning of Renjun’s seventeenth year. Renjun is in the gardens, tending to the rose bushes just beginning to bud.

“The sunrise is quite stunning, isn’t it?”

Renjun’s heart nearly beats out of his chest when he turns to find the prince himself smiling pleasantly, hands tucked casually into his pockets. After a moment of staring, stunned, Renjun remembers himself and dips into a bow. “Your highness, forgive me. I didn’t hear you approach.”

“No need to apologize,” the prince replies easily. “I pride myself on my stealth. It comes in handy sneaking out of political events.”

Pressing his lips against an amused laugh, Renjun bows again. “Of course, your highness.”

“What’s your name?” inquires the prince, studying Renjun more closely than any aristocrat should study a mere servant.

“Renjun, your highness.”

“Renjun,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue and smiling as though he finds it sweet. “And I’m Jaemin. Now that we’ve been properly introduced, we can forget all that ‘your highness’ nonsense.”

“I-I couldn’t possibly—”

“Don’t make me issue a royal command,” the prince grins. “Please, call me Jaemin.”

Renjun hesitates for a moment before inclining his head respectfully. “As you wish, Prince Jaemin.”

“Better than ‘highness,’ I suppose,” says the prince, grimacing. “We’ll work on it.” 

  
  


***

  
  


“Darling," the prince breathes against his neck, and Renjun stiffens, feeling his blood turn to ice.

"Don't call me that," he snaps, sharp voice slicing through the prince’s chamber, scraping like a steel blade against the cold stone walls. Jaemin sits back, hurt flashing across his features, and Renjun has to bite his tongue against the instinctual apology. He fights to keep the softness out of his voice when he continues, "I'm not your darling, your highness."

“ _Jaemin,_ ” he corrects, gently brushing a strand of hair from Renjun’s forehead. “Highness is who I am to everyone else, not to you.”

It’s a lie. Even as Renjun lets himself be pushed back against velvet pillows, too fine to be touched by his commoner skin, he knows it. Jaemin, his collar unbuttoned and hair mussed by Renjun’s fingers, is every bit the prince he always is. He too is too fine to be touched by Renjun’s commoner skin, but he lets himself forget.

When the prince’s gentle hands caress him, he presses closer. When Jaemin calls him _precious, darling, love,_ he bites his lip and doesn’t argue.

  
  


***

  
  


Renjun’s fingers only tremble the slightest bit as he fastens the pearly buttons of the prince’s fine silk shirt. The warmth of the solid chest beneath bleeds easily through the fabric, burning against Renjun’s skin. He doesn’t breathe until he fastens the final button at the prince’s throat and steps back.

“Is there anything else you needed, your highness?” he says, proud of how steady his voice is.

“Didn’t I ask you not to call me that?”

“You didn’t make it a royal command,” Renjun reminds him. A few months ago, he could never have spoken so disrespectfully to the crown prince of the Southern Kingdom. He isn’t sure when that changed, but the tenuous friendship—if it can even be called that—that has sprung up between himself and the prince feels too volatile, too dangerous.

“That’s true,” says Jaemin. When did he get so close? The careful distance Renjun put between them evaporates. “There are a lot of things I’d like to order you to do, Renjun, but I won’t.”

Renjun swallows hard, keeping his eyes fixed on a point on the far wall rather than meeting Jaemin’s gaze.

“I won’t order you,” Jaemin murmurs, close enough that Renjun shivers at the sensation of breath against his skin, “but I might ask you to kiss me.”

Renjun’s eyes slip closed as the prince cups his cheek. _This is wrong,_ something in him protests, but the rightness of Jaemin’s lips on his drowns it soon enough.

  
  


***

  
  


Princess Heejin of the Northern Kingdom is just as beautiful as legends claim, with skin like moonlight and eyes like stars, hair as black as midnight. As Jaemin leans to brush a kiss against her delicate fingers, Renjun has to admit they look lovely together. The union will benefit both kingdoms; the North has an abundance of timber from their expansive forests and metal ore from their snow-capped mountains, while the South offers silks and spices and sugar. It’s a good match, one that will bring peace and prosperity for generations.

Prince Jaemin rises from his respectful bow and his eyes find Renjun in the crowd of servants. There’s an apology written there. Renjun looks away.

  
  


***

  
  


Renjun tugs the hood of his cloak lower over his face as he crosses the courtyard toward the training grounds. The moon is full, lighting his path in silver.

“Are you planning on giving me a lesson in sword fighting?” he hisses as soon as he rounds a corner to see Jaemin leaning against a stone wall.

Jaemin quirks an eyebrow. “That wasn’t my intention, but I suppose something could be arranged if you wanted—”

“Shut up,” Renjun groans, catching onto the innuendo too late. He hopes the shadow cast by his hood is enough to mask the blush blooming up his neck and across his cheekbones. “Why the training grounds?”

Jaemin shrugs. “I just thought, you know.”

Right. The training grounds are guaranteed to be deserted past nightfall, as all knights and royal guards follow a strict curfew. No one to see a prince and a lowly servant wrapped up in each other.

“Yeah,” Renjun whispers, another tiny piece of his heart shattering into the cool night wind.

Jaemin reaches forward and takes Renjun’s hand. The prince’s elegant fingers and perfectly trimmed nails look too delicate against Renjun’s ragged cuticles and knuckles split from scrubbing the floor with lye, but somehow their fingers interlock perfectly. 

“Stop thinking so loud,” Jaemin says, pulling him close.

  
  


***

  
  


“What do you hope will happen? You’ll marry the princess and keep me forever, hidden in the shadows?”

Jaemin opens his mouth but hesitates.

Renjun lets out a humorless bark of laughter. “That’s it, isn’t it? I can’t do this anymore, Jaemin, _we_ can’t do this anymore. Whatever _this_ is, it was a mistake.”

“I don’t believe that,” Jaemin pleads. “I _need_ you, Renjun.” He reaches out his hand, but Renjun pulls away.

“You don’t need me, your highness,” he says, each word a dagger of truth. “I’m just a servant. You are my prince, one day you will be my king. This never should have happened.”

Footsteps in the corridor outside cut off Jaemin’s retort, and the way they both stiffen at the possibility of being found here, together, confirms Renjun’s words. Stolen moments in hidden places are all they’ll ever have, and although Renjun would throw his life away for just one more clandestine meeting, Jaemin deserves more. 

“You should go,” Renjun murmurs. “They’ll send someone to find you soon.”

In a heartbeat, Jaemin crosses Renjun’s tiny bedchamber. His hands find Renjun’s waist, familiar and strong. His kiss is rough, desperate, drinking Renjun in like a man dying of thirst. He kisses as though trying to draw salvation itself from Renjun’s lips. When Jaemin finally pulls away, Renjun’s knees are weak, but his resolve is solidified.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” the prince whispers hoarsely.

Renjun watches him go, drinking in the sight of him—the last glimpse he’ll ever have of his perfect, impossible prince. Because they won’t see each other in the morning. Renjun is leaving the palace tonight.

  
  


***

Most of Jaemin’s gifts stay at the palace, neatly wrapped together in a pillowcase left on his bed, but a single silver ring rests in Renjun’s pocket. A modest emerald glitters in the middle, green as envy.

He pauses at the top of the ridge to take one last look at the castle, the windows glowing against the starry sky. It would be best for the prince to forget him, but Renjun can’t help but hope he won’t. As he ascends to the throne alongside a beautiful queen, as he rules his kingdom with kindness and justice, as his life unfolds, maybe the thought will cross his mind late at night. Maybe from time to time, he’ll wonder what became of the servant boy with the sharp tongue and soft lips.

Maybe, when he slips a diamond on the finger of his princess, he’ll remember the emerald he gave to a peasant.

**Author's Note:**

> um...sorry?
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/see_thevision)


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